


Let the Years We're Here Be Kind

by shadowhuntingdauntlessdemigod



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Brother Feels, Eventual Saileen, Family, Gen, Grieving Sam Winchester, Reverse Swan Song, Season/Series 15, Series end speculative, Team Free Will 2.0 (Supernatural), the brothers find some peace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:29:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21793789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowhuntingdauntlessdemigod/pseuds/shadowhuntingdauntlessdemigod
Summary: “I hate this.” It was nothing more than a whisper, and in an instant Dean was out of his chair, rounding the table to wrap his arms around Sam. Sam returned the hug at once, crushing him, as if his strength alone could save Dean and the world all that once.“I know, little brother, I know,” Dean said softly in his ear as one of his hands ran over Sam’s hair. “And I’m sorry.”If there’s anything Dean shouldn’t be doing on his metaphorical deathbed, it’s apologizing. “It’s okay,” Sam finally said. It’s his permission, his signature on the dotted line to let them move forward.Or:The righteous man wielding a blade of Darkness and Death can strike down God. The catch is that he won’t survive. Dean’s okay with it, but he wants Sam to be too, to some degree, so he can live that happy life after that Dean always fought for him to have.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Comments: 16
Kudos: 32





	Let the Years We're Here Be Kind

**Author's Note:**

> So here it is. Another speculative possible ending to the show. Reverse Swan Song? Yes. Sam and Eileen? Yes. Big brother Dean? Yes. Not sure if this is how I want the show to end, but I know at least that I want the brothers to find some form of peace. Maybe this is a way they can do that. Anyways, I really liked writing this piece, it helped me out through a rough month, so I'm hoping that you guys will like it too :) Angst and some h/c, but it ends on a happy (or at least bittersweet) note, I promise!
> 
> Title is from Sleeping At Last's 'North', which is a beautiful song about building a home that will weather the storm, literally and metaphorically. It's one of my favorite songs, actually. Don't own anything SPN related, but here we are in our last hellatus, wow it's going by quickly!

Dean dies in a blaze of glory. He’s okay with it, really. It was his plan, after all. It had taken time to convince Sam that this was the only way, and Sam had stuck to his guns for close to a week as the world slowly descended into chaos around them.

Billie had come to them with a proposition, resurrected Jack at her side, one night in the bunker when the end of the world was coming to a head for Team Free Will. The plan was this: get Amara on their side, use her power and Death’s to trap God, and Dean would deliver the final blow. The world would be saved. Heaven would go back to normal, souls would rest, and the freak disasters would stop.

But there was a catch. There was always a catch. Dean had to die for it to be accomplished. Another ultimate sacrifice, the opposite of Sam’s a decade prior. The fact wasn’t lost on either of them.

Dean was on board with it from the get-go, not that Sam was surprised. But he wouldn’t go through with it until Sam was too, no matter how reluctantly.

“No, Dean, there’s no way in hell I’m letting you, we’ll find something else.”

“There isn’t anything else and you know it. I’m sorry, Sammy, I am, but this is it. End of the line.”

It was a conversation they had about twelve times in the following five days since the news. The words were sometimes different, but the emotions were the same. Dean wouldn’t press, wouldn’t get angry, but would take anything Sam had to throw at him. Funny, how their roles sometimes reversed when the other was in mortal peril.

“How do we know this isn’t just another one of Chuck’s plans?”

Dean would just shrug and stare into his glass of bourbon, emptying out the finest bottles they had as if he knew the end was near. He did, one way or another. Either he died alone or the whole world died with them.

“We don’t. But with this much power on our side, I have faith.”

Sam hadn’t heard Dean say that in years, and especially not in the last few months. He’d noticed that since Billie’s proposition, Dean had stayed in his room less. He’d been cooking more, conversing, forcing Sam to watch movies with him.

Figures, the only thing to drag him out of his existential crisis was the thought of dying to kill God.

By the sixth day, Dean was desperate, and Sam was getting there.

“You know what you’re doing right?” Was the first sign that he was starting to cave and he could see the shift in Dean’s posture.

“Course I do,” Dean smirked, all false bravado in the face of the unknown. Sam knows both their faces well. “I’m at peace with this, Sam, really. Remember what I told you all those years ago?”

Sam had to shake his head because no, he really didn’t know what Dean is referring to.

“Back when we started the trials. That hasn’t changed. My perfect ending is you happy. And this, what I’m doing, it gets that job done.”

“You expect me to be happy with you dead?”

Dean was quick to shake his head and wave his hands in front of him. “No, no, of course not, that’s not what I mean. All I’m saying is this, this saves everyone. And there’s people here now that can help you.” His gaze drifted to Eileen, sitting a table down from them in the library, engrossed in a book as if it would help.

Sam followed his gaze and sighed. He knew Dean had a point. Unlike many of the other times Dean has died, this time he would have a support system. Cas, Jack, Eileen, they’re all there for him, and he knew people further removed like Jody and Donna will be too.

“That doesn’t make this okay,” was what he said in a choked up voice. Pressure built behind his eyes and there was nothing he could do to force it down. Three cities were hit by tsunamis in the past week. They were running out of time, and it was selfish for Sam to sit on this any longer. Everything else was ready to go. But he knew that this time, it was final. Really, really final.

“Of course not,” Dean replied softly and looked back to Sam, his eyes full with understanding and heartbreak. He didn’t want to leave Sam, not really, and Sam knew it, but he also knew that it was Dean’s best play. If he can save his family from something worse, even at his own expense, he’s okay with it. He’s been okay with it his whole life.

“I hate this.” It was nothing more than a whisper, and in an instant Dean was out of his chair, rounding the table to wrap his arms around Sam. Sam could see Eileen tilt her head to get a glance at them before she got up and left without a sound, giving them some privacy.

Sam’s arms were around Dean at once, crushing him, as if his strength alone could save Dean and the world all that once.

“I know, little brother, I know,” Dean said softly in his ear as one of his hands ran over Sam’s hair. “And I’m sorry.”

If there’s anything Dean shouldn’t be doing on his deathbed, it’s apologizing. “It’s okay,” Sam finally said. It’s his permission, his signature on the dotted line to let them move forward.

And it nearly breaks his soul—the same one Dean saved a decade ago—in half.

.

Two days later they’re in Stull Cemetery. It’s fitting, really, but Sam can’t appreciate the irony in it.

He’s gone through book after book, many of them Rowena’s, and after working with Billie and Amara, come up with a trap. It won’t last long, but it’ll last long enough.

Amara hands Dean a blade, not like the first blade. It’s pitch black, so dark that no light reflects off it. It resembles almost a small angel blade if Sam thinks about it.

She promises it’ll get the job done, and once it does, she’ll be on her way so the universe remains in balance. She was easy to get on board, since the chaos her brother caused was doing her no favors, and neither were his incessant pleas for help from the mess he caused. She’s not happy about it, per say, but none of them are about the situation.

When Billie lays her hands over the blade and whispers an incantation, Sam can see Dean’s hand dip under some unseen added weight. Next is Jack, and after he touches it, Sam can see streaks of gold in among the black.

It’s the most powerful weapon possibly ever created, and it does the same thing to its user as to its recipient. And that power can only be wielded so long before it shatters. It’s something akin to Chuck’s Equalizer, but dark instead of light. And that dark blade is the only thing capable of giving them hope.

They have time for a quick goodbye, Dean giving hugs to everyone. They had a real goodbye in the bunker beforehand, but this just makes everything final. Jack, Eileen, Cas, and finally Sam. Sam will have bruises for days afterwards, but he knows he’ll miss them when they fade.

“Alright. Let’s get this show on the road,” Dean says after he clears his throat and turns toward where the trap has been laid.

Sam begins chanting along with Billie and Amara as Jack, Cas, Eileen stand guard. It only takes a minute before there’s a bright flash of light and suddenly Chuck is standing in the middle of the circle.

They don’t talk.

The time for monologues or comments about free will and irony are over. Chuck knows what’s coming, even if he didn’t write it. He sees the blade in Dean’s hand and the fury in his eyes only grows. He looks past Dean to see their rag-tag army of some of the most powerful beings in existence next to some hunters that helped save the world, and betrayal comes to match the fury. Sam can feel the ground shake as Chuck tries to break the bonds, but it does him no good.

Dean crosses the twenty feet between him and God in two seconds flat and jams the blade into Chuck’s heart.

The righteous man, wielding a weapon of the Darkness, a nephilim, and Death herself, rejecting the one who created him, brings God to his knees.

And Dean along with him.

There’s a thunderclap and another bright flash.

When Sam can see again, Amara is gone. Chuck is a heap on the ground and Dean is next to him, not a mark on him.

Everyone keeps their distance as Sam crosses over to his brother and kneels next to him reverently. He turns him over as gingerly as he can so Dean faces the sky of the world he just saved. He knows without a shadow of a doubt that Dean’s already gone. He’s seen his brother’s dead face so many times that he knows without asking if he’s still there, if he can hear him, without shaking him or pleading with him or begging him to stay with him.

He knows.

Everyone else does too.

The cemetery around them is quiet. Eventually Eileen comes up next to him. He can tell it’s her without even looking based on the feather light touch he feels on his shoulder. She then kneels down next to him in the dirt and wraps an arm around his shoulders, and Sam’s knees collapse under him.

His fingers are still wrapped up in Dean’s jacket. Dean’s face is peaceful but much too still.

He feels Eileen lean her head against his shoulder and soon he does the same for her.

Tears are silently making their way down his cheeks. The breaking will come later, he knows, it always does.

But for now he listens to a bird that’s settled on a nearby tree and its chirping. The world is still turning. He can tell Cas and Jack are coming up behind him to offer their own silent support. He can feel Eileen’s warmth next to him, a quiet promise to be there too.

This is now the world Dean saved. This is the one Sam will have to live in after.

He owes it to his brother to at least try and make the best out of it that he can.

.

They carry Dean out of the cemetery not long after. More, Sam carries him while the others watch. It fleetingly reminds Sam of the ending of _Gladiator,_ which Dean had loved for its badass fights and intense music. He’d always called Maximus a hero, who didn’t deserve any of what happened to him. It’s not that Sam didn’t like the movie, he just saw too many parallels and preferred they watch almost anything else at a given time.

Now, they carry their own hero away from the slain creator who thought he could rule the world.

And they honor him.

They give Dean a hunter’s funeral, even though Billie assures them that he made it into heaven with no problems. She got what she wanted in the end too: a Winchester dead and a simpler world. She’s gone when the fire lights, leaving just Team Free Will 2.0 as Dean had named them and Eileen.

The pyre is on a hill by the bunker, overlooking the water and the bridge. Sam and Dean would go up on occasion and watch the sunset over the water with a few beers in their hands when the world wasn’t ending. They were some of the most peaceful moments they ever had in recent memory.

All four of them stay until the fire is nothing more than ashes. Cas comforts Jack, both of them wishing they could have done more, and Eileen comforts Sam. It’s silent for the most part, but understood, and flows around all of them like water around the rocks not far away. The three of them leave Sam alone not long after the embers stop glowing.

Sam sits down next to the pile of ashes and watches the water. Then he pulls out his phone. He has a few calls to make.

He cries before the first ring even goes through.

They bury the ashes the next day and leave a small bright white stone as a marker. Sam doesn’t sleep for the next two, and on the fourth day after Dean’s death, he finds himself in his brother’s room, looking at the shotguns on the walls and the pictures in Dean’s drawers.

Dean had time to make everything nice before he left. The place is more spotless than usual. There’s also a letter on the desk, but Sam shuts off the light before he can read it. Not now, not now. He can’t, not now.

Cas wraps him in a hug when he sees him wandering the hallway. Sam returns it, and wishes he could be present to do more. He knows no one blames him, but that doesn’t help anything. They’re all grieving and he knows it. The numbness will fade after a time, and then the pain will come. Hopefully after, things will improve.

Eileen joins him later in his own room with a sandwich and a glass of water. When he doesn’t look like he’ll take it, she puts them down and signs ‘please’ with as much emotion as she possibly can.

Dean didn’t die for him to waste away or for him to worry Eileen. He’d surely shove the sandwich into Sam’s hands and stay there until it was gone. So he eats the sandwich. She sits on the bed next to him and looks through some of the photos Sam’s been turning over in his hands. When he finally falls asleep, it’s against her shoulder.

He dreams of Dean, laughing as he sings at the top of his lungs to an AC/DC song in the Impala. He dreams of the windows down, engine rumbling as Dean guns Baby down an empty backroad, free as can be. He dreams of Dean happy.

.

A few weeks pass before he and Eileen decide to move out of the bunker. They’ve decided to give it a shot between them, no matter what else is happening. They need each other, more than ever, and neither are afraid to admit it.

“Come back whenever you need. We’ll be here,” Cas says as he hugs Sam.

“Thanks, Cas,” Sam whispers into the angel’s shoulder. He tells Jack to be good, even though he knows Jack will be, and hugs him too. They’ll be back before the end of the month, but that doesn’t stop it from feeling like a chapter in a book is closing when Sam drives the Impala away from the bunker, his and Eileen’s things in the trunk.

They settle in Cawker City, not far from Lebanon in case something happens or they feel the need to return to the bunker. It’s a peaceful little town that Sam and Dean once visited as children to see one of the biggest balls of twine.

They find a small two bedroom house not far from the nearby lake and give it a go.

Sam won’t lie. It’s hard.

He can’t listen to music in the Impala. All the old tapes are Dean’s, and playing anything on the current radio stations seems like an insult to his memory. Dean would probably snarkily agree. It’s a wonder he can drive the car at all. But it keeps Dean close, and that’s what he needs at the moment. Dean also once threatened to haunt his ass if anything happened to the car.

Sam knows he was joking, but he can’t risk pulling Dean down from heaven to watch over Baby. So he watches over her instead from behind the wheel and under the hood. She’s his home too, after all, and she probably feels empty with half her occupants gone.

They don’t get jobs right away. But they don’t hunt either.

They see Cas and Jack as often as possible, and Jody and Donna whenever they come down.

Eileen is there when the numbness fades. He sees a sunrise one morning, about five weeks after Dean’s been gone, and something in him breaks. The sun has risen because Dean is dead, for good this time.

Eileen holds him through that day and the others after.

And by some miracle, it gets better.

Who knew that Dean trying to make Sam okay with it beforehand would actually end up helping? In a way he had already processed some of it, or so the logical side of his brain tells him, and now all that’s left are just the reactions to it.

It still hurts like hell and is unbearable, but he’s been dealing with unbearable and hell his entire life. It’s just another level of his normal.

.

A year later they move just outside Wichita. Sam gets a job teaching a mythology course at a local community college and Eileen works at a community center a few miles away, giving classes in ASL.

They went on a few hunts since Dean died, but gradually petered off. Cas and Jack handle most of it now, and are happy to. Sam still sends other hunters cases, or will organize and help with lore. On occasion he’ll go out for an emergency, but aside from that he stays in the same thirty mile radius.

He sees Dean less frequently as the months pass by.

But he still dreams of his brother, at peace as he looks out over the water.

.

Sam asks Eileen to marry him the next summer. He does it at their favorite spot right next to one of the many small pockets of water in the area. She says yes immediately and the smiles on both their faces don’t disappear for a week.

Everyone comes to the small wedding and despite whatever lingers in Sam’s brain, he’s happy. This is what Dean wanted, and it’s what Sam currently wants. Turns out Dean is still being proven right even though he’s no longer with them. Sam knows that Dean would be happy about that.

Life goes on.

A year and a half later they have a daughter, Deanna Marie Winchester. Eileen hadn’t blinked twice at one of Sam’s name suggestions, and had said it was only fitting with a smile on her face. Marie is a nod to her own mother. She finds it fitting, too, that the expansion of their family is a direct line to those who came before.

Deanna, or ‘Dee’ and ‘Dot’ as her parents soon come to call her, can almost fit in one of Sam’s hands when she is born. Eileen watches with a tired smile on her face as Sam cradles her as if she is made of glass and looks down at her, completely in awe.

He presses a kiss to Eileen’s lips right after and sits in the chair at her bedside, watching as Deanna flutters her eyes open and closed. She’s perfect.

It’s the life Sam never thought he’d get to have. And he’s immensely grateful for how it turned out.

.

At a year old, Deanna has the beginnings of her mother’s dark hair but her father’s hazel eyes. In the sun they sparkle with green flecks that remind Sam of his brother’s brilliant green eyes that he hasn’t seen replicated anywhere. She’s still small for her age, but everyone is convinced that she’ll turn out just fine.

Sam reminds Eileen of how small he was as a child, and the nicknames Dean would affectionately give him until he sprouted up taller than his brother in his late teens.

He’s mostly fluent in sign language now, so they talk to Deanna using both spoken words and signs. Eileen’s convinced she’ll be a fast learner, considering who her father is.

They take a trip back to Lebanon for Christmas a few months later. Jack marvels at how big Dee’s gotten and Cas just smiles the whole time. He’s gotten better at holding her, too.

In the afternoon, Sam takes little bundled up Deanna on a walk outside while Eileen makes a run with Cas to get a few things they had forgotten at the store for the holiday.

Sam walks slowly, Dee cradled securely in his grasp. Her eyes are wide and curious as they take in the new scenery.

“I brought you out here to show you something special, alright?” Sam asks with a smile on his face.

Deanna half pays attention to him and half to the water she can hear rushing by as they get closer to the river and the crest of the hill. She doesn’t take notice of how her father stops at the very top of the hill, a few feet from a white rock.

“Hey, Dean.” He greets his brother the same way he always does: with a lump in his throat and tears in his eyes. But the lump is smaller this time, the tears don’t fall from his eyes. He likes to think of it as a sign of healing.

“Wanted you to meet someone. This is Deanna,” he introduces and gingerly sits down beside the white rock with his daughter in his lap. He’s told Dean about his namesake, but this is the first time Deanna has made the trip with him. “Can you say hi?” Sam directs to her.

“Hi,” she says back in a small voice, looking directly at Sam. Her face morphs into a wide smile, proud at having followed an instruction.

“Hi,” Sam smiles back and kisses her on the top of her head. “We’re here to see Uncle Dean, daddy’s brother. You remember the stories I tell you, right?”

She nods her head into his shoulder, catching a glimpse of the white rock before she looks back out over the water. Sam knows she’ll understand when she’s older. For now, the stories are fantastical tales of Dean the hero saving a town from a dragon, or rescuing a mermaid. Little does she know that some of the stories, though very watered down, are true.

“We’re just gonna sit and talk for a minute, alright?”

Deanna nods again and yawns before she rests her head on Sam’s shoulder and closes her eyes. She’ll open them every now and again to look at something that made a noise, but Sam can tell that she’s tired. He’ll put her down for a nap when they get back inside.

“She’s a little small now, but probably just a late bloomer. Must run in the family, hm? But she loves coloring. Blue’s her current favorite, but it could change at any time. She took her first steps a few months ago, she’s doing well. Eileen has some great pictures, you’d have gotten a kick out of them.” Sam smiles to himself, glancing between his daughter in his arms and the stone marking where his brother is in the ground.

“Cas and Jack are doing good, like always. Hunting, helping people. Things are quiet, there’s less to be done. The demons stay in hell, what angels there are stick to heaven. It’s simpler. You-“ he cuts himself off and takes a breath. “You did a lot of good, Dean, and it still shows even now, and will for a while. You can’t get me to say you were right, but…you know.”

He can imagine Dean rolling his eyes, clear as day.

As time has gone on, he’s been more worried that he’ll forget Dean’s face, or the sound of his voice, or how his laugh boomed through the bunker. But he hasn’t, not yet at least, and he’ll hold onto that for as long as he possibly can until he sees Dean again.

“But I’m doing okay, really, I am. I listened to you, you’ll be happy about that,” Sam lets out a laugh. With his free hand that isn’t occupied with his daughter, he quietly pulls out a piece of paper from his jacket pocket.

It’s creased from years of being opened and closed and stuffed into pockets and read more times than anyone can count. It took him almost two months after Dean died for him to finally open it. Once he did, the letter seldom left his side or his keepsake box.

_Sammy,_

_I know this will be hard. I can’t pretend it won’t be. We’ve both been here enough times to know how it goes. But this time, you have to let it rest. Find some peace with it, Sam, I’m begging you. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry for putting you in this position, for leaving you alone, but you’re not alone, and I hope that with time you can see that._

_I want you to be happy, Sammy, really, really happy. It’s not a disgrace to my memory or any of that. It’s all I’ve ever wanted for you. If happiness comes in the form of Eileen or someone else or helping people from the bunker or going back to law school, you do it. Whatever happens, know I’m proud of you for it._

_I know I’m not here right now, but can you promise me that? That you’ll end up happy? Or at least make a best attempt._

_I’ll see you again, little brother. But not for a long, long time. So enjoy the life you’ve got coming, and I’ll be up somewhere with a beer waiting to hear about it._

_-Dean_

“I want you to know I kept my promise.” Sam’s eyes settle on Deanna in his arms, who’s mostly asleep now, warm and bundled against his shoulder. “Looks like you accomplished your life goal after all, even when you’re gone. You always did find a way to get what you wanted.” There’s a single tear that tracks down his face and it nearly freezes upon exposure to the chilly winter air.

He’s quick to wipe it away with the back of his hand. Sam reads over the note one more time and carefully folds it back into his pocket. Then, with as little movement as possible, he stands and wraps his other arm around Dee to support her.

“I’ll check in later. Alright jerk?”

The nickname gets carried away by the wind, and Sam likes to think that it’ll take the message all the way up to Dean where he can get a kick out of it and reply in his own way.

Sam then begins to make his way back down the hill across a light dusting of snow that’s begun to cover the ground. Flakes of it catch in his daughter’s dark hair and he watches some of them melt almost on impact.

This is what life is now. It’s the one he made himself from what Dean gifted him over the decades. And he’ll continue to make the best of it he possibly can.


End file.
